Helpless
by Oasis Blackmore
Summary: Cartman's not asking for help. Oneshot. T for language and mild racism. Implied slash.


**A/N: Another warm-up fic. I need to perfect characterization. **

Helpless

Melted ice from the cooler dripped off Cartman's fourth hotdog and into the waning fire, which Kenny had made with surprising quickness ("His family can't afford heating, Kahl."), and the resulting sizzle of steam was carried away by the crisp air blowing through the woods on the outskirts of the boys' small, mountain town.

The four teenagers sat Indian style around the flames, jackets zipped all the way up to avoid the chill nipping at their bare faces and fingers. Though they all had their hands extended toward the inviting warmth of Kenny's creation, only Stan's and Cartman's held makeshift barbeque forks (sticks), adorned with Hebrew National, all-beef franks ("Jew food, Kahl? Are you seriously?").

"I am _starving_," Stan repeated, having already stated the fact, watching his food roast with impatient eyes.

"Me, too, dude," Cartman sympathized. "Too bad Kenny's fire is weak-ass."

"Shut the fuck up, Cartman," Kenny snapped, his worn-thin coat doing little to protect him from the cold that was dampening his spirits.

"Yeah. Like you need _another_ hotdog, Fatass," Kyle sneered. "You ate half a pack when everyone else was setting up camp."

"'S'not my fault your heeb-dogs don't fill the void, Kahl. Who the fuck put you in charge of food supply, anyway?"

"I did," Stan piped up a little defensively. "Kyle's the best at making lists and shit . . ."

"'Cause he's a fag," Cartman jabbed under his breath.

"I am not!" Kyle replied in an angrily high-pitched voice.

" . . . so it seemed like a good idea," Stan went on without acknowledging the exchange.

"Not to mention, you're up in each other's pubes all the time," Cartman appended with a flash of his teeth.

"Yeah, _that's_ why I thought he should buy the food," Stan agreed sarcastically, eyes rolling in passive exasperation.

"No, that's why you thought he should pick out the hotdogs," Cartman corrected, casually glancing to his side to view Kyle's growing indignation.

"Just because y--"

Stan silenced Kyle's rebuttal with a pat on the arm and calmly countered, "I didn't hear _you_ offering to do the job, Cartman, so just drop it."

Cartman examined the point at which Kyle and Stan were connected and narrowed his eyes. "Fine," he grumbled, at least gratified by getting the last word. "But this fire's still a piece of shit."

"Why don't _you_ go get more wood, then, Tubby?" Kenny suggested without enthusiasm.

Cartman raised an eyebrow skeptically as he let out a snort. "Yeah. Right."

His unwillingness to put in any effort on their camping trip annoyed everyone ("Are you just gonna sit on your ass all night, Cartman?"), and they all sat in sullen silence until Stan, evidently wanting his hotdog to cook faster, sighed, "_I'll_ go . . . Kyle?" As he rose to his feet, he passed his stick to his best friend for safekeeping, stepping over a log and toward the trees behind their tent.

"Aw. You don't have to ask, Stan. Kahl _wants_ to hold your wiener," Cartman couldn't resist calling after him, finally earning a sex-joke-induced snicker from Kenny.

"Goddamn it, Cartman!" Kyle barked.

Cartman just smirked and pulled his hissing hotdog from the fire, reaching for a bun.

"Are those actually good?" Kenny asked, still smiling, as Cartman downed the whole thing in one bite.

"Jam, Keh-y, 'ou chur are pishy for shomeone who eash waffuz aj a main coursh," Cartman criticized with his mouth full, not willing to admit that he actually _was_ enjoying something kosher ("Kosher's for fags, Kahl.").

Kenny's years of muffled speech led to his quick translation: "_Damn, Kenny, you sure are picky for someone who eats waffles as a main course."_ He had always found that ignoring Cartman's remarks was the most effective way of annoying him, unless the obese boy was otherwise entertained by the single person who always gave him a reaction.

"God, Fatass," Kyle complained, turning his head away with a grimace. "That's fucking disgusting."

Cartman's leer revealed more of his half-chewed food, and Kenny couldn't keep back another laugh, though he was still busy pretending he hadn't understood Cartman's insult.

"Ugh. Fuck you. I'm gonna go help Stan." Kyle abruptly stabbed the empty end of Stan's stick into the ground and stood, displeasure evident on his face.

Cartman swallowed his food hastily, so he could better mock the retreating Jew. "Aw, Kenny. He misses his wittle butt buddy." He looked up at Kyle pseudo-compassionately. "It's okay, Kahl. We understand."

Kyle's glower was just what Cartman craved. "I dunno what's with you tonight, but I'm warning you; one more gay joke about me and Stan . . ."

Cartman blinked at him innocently, and after a tense moment of staring him down, Kyle pivoted, heading past the tent.

As soon as Kyle was out of earshot, Cartman grinned and blurted (a little more quietly than usual), "Stan and Kyle are gay!"

Kenny, who had just grabbed a hotdog from the cooler, chuckled and shook his head. He let the crackling logs fill what might have been a lull in the conversation as he speared his food on a twig, taking his time before speaking. "So, I was wondering, Cartman . . ." He moved the link closer to the fire. "When are you gonna tell him that you're just jealous?"

In spite of Kenny's inoffensive tone, Cartman's expression still showed an inkling of antagonism when he slowly faced the blond teen. "I was thinking _never_," he responded in a low voice, eyes suddenly more thoughtful than resentful as he frowned at the fire. "But if you have a later suggestion, don't hold out on me."

Kenny smiled crookedly as the tiny flames reached upward. "There's no helping you, dude."

Cartman leaned forward to rest his chin on his knees. "Who said I wanted help, anyway?"

**A/N: All my SP fanfics have ended up having something to do with fire and /or explosions . . . odd. Also, I highly recommend what my family and I (without any animosity toward Jewish people) call Jew-dogs. They're fucking delicious. Anyway, review if you like. **


End file.
